My Life Story
I was born in the early hours of June 16, 1969 at Lambeth Hospital in London. My mother, an unmarried 19-year-old young girl decided that it would be best if I was adopted by a couple who could give me a stable relationship from the word go. So in August 1969 I was given to my adoptive parents, in November 1969 I was officially adopted. The first four years of my life were spent travelling around Europe due to my father's work. We spent some time living in Norfolk before travelling to Hamburg in Germany where we lived until I was about four years old. Then we moved down to Paignton in Devon and stayed with my dad's parents whilst he took up training to run and manage some petrol stations. In 1974 we moved to Luton in Bedfordshire and my father started managing two ESSO garages. In the same year my parents then adopted my sister who they called Gabrielle. We lived in St Joseph's Close Luton, a quiet friendly road that also housed a lot of other families with young children. I really did have a very good childhood living in in a street that had lots of other families with young children. In those days we didn't have computers or computer games, children's television was limited to about an hour and a half a day so we all used to spend our time playing outside, getting lots of fresh air like children should nowadays. I remember the dawn of the skateboard and rollerskates here in the UK in the late 70s. I remember getting my brand-new skateboard on Christmas Day, a Land Surfer of California, a rather corny name for a skateboard isn't it?. Unfortunately it had been snowing so I wasn't able to use it for a while. I think the most memorable thing about using my skateboard was when I fell off it and broke my thumb. Anyway, most of the children in the street had a skateboard and we would spend hours trying our best not to fall off.
I think it was my ninth birthday when we went up to "Anglers Den" the local angling shop about three quarters of a mile from the house and I was bought my very first fishing rod, a 10 foot Shakespeare course fishing rod, plus a reel and some tackle. My dad would take me to a place called Wrest Park which is located in Silsoe, I think that he knew someone who had given me permission to go and fish in the large lake there. So on a Sunday morning off I would trundle to the tackle shop to buy a box of maggots. I did once make the mistake of leaving my bait box on the step outside the back door, my mother wasn't too happy when she walked out and knocked the box on the floor releasing the wriggling contents all over the place, I can still remember the screams today. I don't remember catching anything big, I was quite happy catching small roach and perch for two or three hours. When I was a little older, around 10, I was allowed to go fishing with a friend. I was very good friends with a young lad the same age as me called Philip Boyle, he lived just around the corner, in fact his back garden backed onto ours. One fishing trip that Philip and I went on will remain in my memory for ever. It wasn't for the fact that we caught lots of fish, it was because on one of the coldest days in winter, Philip fell in the canal. To this day, I don't know how you managed to do it, I just remember him casting out, the next thing there was a scream and there was Phillip going headfirst into into the canal. I'm afraid he ain't no Tom Daley and I could only give him one for entry. He started panicking so obviously we had to get him out. Unfortunately I found it really difficult to pull him out of the canal, it wasn't because he was soaking wet, nothing like that, it was the fact that I was laughing so hard I couldn't summon up the strength to pull him out. Anyway, we finally managed to get him out and he disappeared for the rest of the day, to this day I don't know where he went. All I do know is he swore me to secrecy and made me promise not to tell anyone, of course I did, it was just too funny not to share with everyone else. I have spoken to Phil fairly recently on Facebook and he actually brought the subject up. He agreed, it was ******* funny.
I started school at Paignton Community College in the summer of 81. In comparison it was minute compared to my previous school but all in all a much more relaxing atmosphere and not so intimidating because of the size. I'm not exactly sure how old the school is, but I have friends who are in their 60s who attended as children, so we're definitely going back to the early 50s. The teachers were pretty cool, my first form teacher was lovely but unfortunately had absolutely no control over any of the children, she would often end up in tears after being tormented by a few individuals. It's sad to say that not all teachers were particularly nice. In fact, one individual who took sports put the fear of God into some of us, we were absolutely terrified of him. This chap was nothing more than a bully and a thug who wouldn't think twice about dishing out his own style of punishment, quite often either humiliating or painful. I witnessed this first-hand when he physically threw a young lad against the doors, I'm amazed to this day that the young lad didn't break his coccyx after landing heavily. On one occasion he ordered a young boy to strip naked and stand in front of the whole class in the sports hall for what seemed to be quite a long time. One day I did nothing more than spin around in a circle while sitting on the floor in the gymnasium whilst waiting for the teacher to arrive. This resulted in me being forced to undress, and then get dressed again constantly for an hour. I know that young children, especially boys can be irritating, but there is absolutely no excuse for a grown man to physically and emotionally abuse children in his care. With the benefit of hindsight I now realise that this sports teacher behaved in a manner that would not only get him the sack nowadays, but also land him in serious trouble with the police. Just before travelling to Scotland for our annual holiday in 1983, I visited the hairdressers and got myself a crewcut hair cut, basically I had most of my hair removed leaving me with about a quarter of an inch of hair. I wasn't particularly fond of my ginger hair so in my weird way of thinking, having less of it was an advantage. Then I happened to be watching Top of the Pops around Christmas time and "The Flying Pickets" came on singing the Yazoo classic "Only You". For some strange reason I was rather taken by the weird looking skinhead character who was a member of the band. I then decided that a change of image was required and at the beginning of 1984 I transformed myself into a skinhead. I had the works, 14 hole Dr Marten boots, bleached jeans that were cut off at the very top of the boots, of course I had to have a black Crombie with a red lining. With the benefit of hindsight I must have looked extremely menacing to some people, however I thought I was the bees knees and took great pride in polishing my boots until I could see my face in them. Even though my hair was still quite short, it wasn't quite short enough for my liking so off I went to the hairdressers and came back with an eighth of an inch crewcut, because of my colouring I looked virtually bald. Well, my mother hit the roof when she saw me, she actually vowed to keep me inside until it grew back. One even a whilst I was out I bumped into a couple of lads from school, one of which I knew really well, the other one I knew but didn't really have anything to do. His name was Gary and it just so happened that he was also a skinhead. Well, from that night we hit it off and became the best of friends. We were basically inseparable and would go out traipsing the streets looking tough, or trying to anyway. It wasn't just myself and Gary, there was also Darren and Ryan as well, a right bunch of teeny skinheads, but believe me we had some really good times and I wouldn't change a thing.
Gary had never been fishing before so considering how much I spent fishing myself, I thought it was something I would introduce to him to. The first time we ever went fishing he unfortunately lost a float, well, you would have thought it was the crown jewels, he was so upset and apologetic, the float only cost 50p. Anyway, he soon became as hooked as I was on fishing and for the remainder of our schooldays we would spend hours fishing together. We all used to have some great times going fishing together. Sometimes just myself and Gary would go off fishing, other times another good schoolfriend Ryan would be with us, and quite often it would be myself, Gary and my two cousins, Nick and Matt. I do remember one occasion when it was just myself and Nick fishing at Berry Head. The call of nature interrupted the fishing for Nick and he had to run off to take a dump. I remember looking up and seeing a group of old grannies on the path pointing and observing something just below them. It turned out that they were actually watching Nick empty his bowels, well, I found this quite funny and couldn't resist informing him that he had an audience of old age pensioners watching him. You've never seen somebody run so quickly with their trousers and pants around their ankles. Since the age of 12 I had been doing a little part-time job as a paperboy. I first started off delivering the Herald Express in the evenings after school. I think I probably delivered about 30 papers for a measly two quid a week, we didn't get paid much as paperboys in the early 80s. One of the old ladies who I used to deliver to was virtually housebound and used to sit in a chair all day, we would knock and then walk straight into the house since she was not very good on her feet. I'll never forget the day I knocked, walked into the living room only to find a family of four all watching the television, you guessed it, I walked into the neighbour's house by accident, rather embarrassing as they didn't say anything at all, they just looked at me as I was standing there. When I was little older, probably 13 I got myself a morning paper round at the same shop in Fisher Street Paignton. A couple called Barry and Ann who were originally from Coventry owned and ran the paper shop. Ironically, Anne's brother was the drummer in The Specials, one of my favourite bands in the early 80s. Doing a morning paper round meant getting up at about 6 AM in the morning, okay in the summertime but absolutely horrible during winter, is it just me or were the winters much colder in the early 80s?
We were actually in class and observed out of the window the day when the lead singer of Duran Duran, Simon Le Bon's yacht "Drum" was towed into Falmouth upside down after capsising and nearly killing him. I wonder how many people remember that? In the meantime my parents had sold the shop in Paignton and moved to Brixham in the meantime. I was quite happy, Brixham was always the place I wanted to live ever since we moved down to Devon. My parents bought a very old three-storey house uptown in the old farming district of Brixham. The house itself was around 400 years old and had dry stone walls around 3 foot thick. I have no idea how long the previous owner had lived there but I found newspapers dating back to the late 60s underneath the carpet in my bedroom.
Life on deck could be very dangerous at times, especially during heavy seas in the darkness. You really did need to have your wits about you and definitely a good pair of sea legs when collecting the scallops and fish from the deck. After emptying out the dredges we would then have to pick up all the scallops and fish and then take them to the front of the vessel where they would be cleaned and prepared for icing. We would then often have to scoop back half the ocean bottom which we often trawled up as well, gravel, mud, huge rocks, you name it. I will never forget the guy who used to work with me for those six hours, he had the worst halitosis I've ever come across, in fact it was so bad that even in a gale, you could still smell his breath from a few feet away. He was a really lovely guy so nobody ever said anything. One of the biggest advantages of working on a trawler is at the end of every trip you get to take home lots of fresh fish. One of the downsides of catching fish by trawling nets is sometimes the fish get damaged. Damaged fish does not sell so at the end of every trip it would be divided up amongst the crew. I used to go home with bags of plaice, sole, turbot, all kinds of fish that would cost a fortune to buy, we used to eat well at our house you know. I spent the first few months in the eight bed ward directly in front of the nurses station. Once I was stabilised and able to get up for the whole of the day I was then moved into one of the four bed wards. It was actually pretty cool really, myself and three other lads were put in the four bed ward right at the end of the corridor. It was great in those days, we were not told when we had to go to bed, we basically went to bed when we wanted to. When Jane, or maybe a few of the other nurses I got on with were on night duty, they would often wheel my bed down to the nurses station and feed me Marmite on toast at two o'clock in the morning. Mind you, we used to get pretty annoyed when the lights were turned on at eight o'clock in the morning, I can remember being quite abusive towards Ian who was one of the auxiliary nurses, naughty teenagers with their bad language. This picture shows me next to the nurses station with three of the nurses that looked after me on a regular basis. I'm not sure why I was pulling such a stupid face, looks like I may have been auditioning for a gurning competition. (from the left: Sue, Theresa on my knee, and Jo behind) It just so happened that Brixham was one of numerous cities and towns around the world that had a Leonard Cheshire Home. The Cheshire home was set up at the end of the war by Group Capt Leonard Cheshire. It was intended to give a home to young disabled people. At the beginning of February 1987 I moved into Douglas House which is the Cheshire home based in Brixham. The Cheshire home had around 40 residents who have disabilities such as cerebral palsy, very slight brain injury, spinal injury and MS. When I first moved into the Cheshire home everybody was able to communicate fully, sometimes it was difficult to understand what they were saying, but everyone was fully able to communicate. It was a little strange moving back home again but I had a fairly large lounge/bedroom/bathroom which gave me my own space. I would continue visiting the Cheshire Home on the weekdays as it was nice to mix with people, rather than just sit at home watching television.
1992 was a big year, things started happening and I was finally able to make a start at moving on in life. After nearly a six-year wait I was awarded damages for my accident. It was deemed that the outdoor swimming pool had been left in an unsafe condition. The first thing I did was to buy a car. I ordered a Chrysler Voyager which had to be shipped over from the USA. I then moved into the property market and bought a house. Ironically the bungalow I purchased is almost opposite the Cheshire Home. However, it would be another three years before I would move into the bungalow. After living in a flat on the back of my parents house since 1987 I moved into a bungalow in 1995 and started living totally independently which was fantastic. As long as you've got a good team of carers than any disabled person can live independently, I would highly recommend it. There's something about making your own cup of tea that is quite satisfying when someone's been doing for you before.
Chrissy and I parted in 2006, however our strong friendship remains to this day and not only is she one of my main carers now, but both Chrissy myself and her new partner Charles go out for meals on a regular basis and are the best of friends.
I spent over a week in a coma with tubes sticking out of every orifice and by all accounts I looked like nothing on earth, all swollen and bloated with bloodshot eyes that made me look like the devil when I finally opened them. After two weeks I was able to leave hospital which was absolutely fantastic. The staff at the hospital were wonderful and I will always be grateful for what they did for me. Unfortunately my troubles weren't over by a long shot. I started feeling very sick, especially whenever I ate something. The nights were the worst, I would wake up about every half an hour feeling extremely nauseous and then start vomiting like it was going out of fashion. At one stage, my mother whilst running down the stairs after I called her, tripped and head-butted the wall, luckily she didn't sustain a serious injury which was a relief. I went back into the spinal unit where they drained a lot of gunge and gunk from my right kidney, that made all the difference, it was basically like flicking a switch, I went from not being able to eat anything and keep it down, to having a voracious appetite and literally going back to my normal self, I've got a fantastic appetite and I love my food. I was then told that my right kidney was hardly functioning and I would actually be better off if I had it removed. This was a total shock at first, having your kidney removed is major surgery. That said, it was this poor functioning kidney that probably caused all my problems in the first place. So in June of 2009 I went into The Duke of Cornwall Spinal Treatment Centre and had my right kidney removed. Thankfully we humans can function perfectly okay with just one kidney so as long as I look after myself, drink plenty of water I should be perfectly okay with just my one kidney. I've had a few niggardly health problems since I almost died back in 2008 but all in all it's not been too bad and certainly nothing that can be compare to what I went through back then. Nowadays I spend an awful lot of time on my computer maintaining by websites. I have various websites of my own including
Oscarfishlover.com
which is directly related to my other passion for keeping the Oscar fish cichlid. I have a large eight-foot aquarium here in my room that contains all my fish. I spend quite a lot of time on the Oscar fish forum where we help other people who also keep Oscars and tropical fish. My other two passions are ham radio and fishing. I've been a licensed radio ham since 1995 and have enjoyed making friends all around the world ever since. I've recently revamped my amateur radio station which has made contacting people around the world that much easier. Probably my most passionate hobby is angling. After my accident I didn't think I would ever participate in angling again but with a little thought and innovation I now go fishing both in the sea and the local ponds and lakes on a regular basis in the summertime.
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 written by Penny , July 04, 2011
While I am not disabled, I have a mystery illness that is very disabling at times... and scares me about my furure. It was very helpful reading your story. It was very positive and genuine. I wish you happiness and the bext possible health.
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I admire your resilience
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 Your story also puts my own issues into perspective! Much Good Life to you. report abuse
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 written by Sarah , September 03, 2011
thanks to your advice, i'm going to save some money and try the headset that comes with Dragon 11. I broke all 4 limbs in a car accident a year and a half ago, and am thankful to have the use of all my limbs, despite slow recovery from crush injuries from the knees down. This dictation software became appealing to me when the arthritis started setting in heavily. If I do invest in a headset, I would like one that can also answer my magic jack phone line and be wireless. Do you know how I could go about doing this? I have a home wireless network that also runs four other computers. They run 7. Any suggestions? Cheers, sarah
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When we lived in Luton we would offer holiday down in Paignton Devon where my Grandparents had lived for many years after moving away from Birmingham which is where my dad's side of the family come from . They owned a hotel, then a guesthouse and then retired to various properties around the town. My dad's sister lived here in Brixham which is only 5 miles from Paignton. She also had two children, Matt and Nick. Nick is the same age as me, and Matt a couple of years younger. This photograph taken in 72/73 is of me (in white) and my cousin Nick. Here we are on Goodrington Beach having a really good laugh by the look of it. Can't remember what I found so amusing. By the look of those holes, maybe I had just force-fed my cousin a big lugworm.
I can't remember exactly how it came about, but somehow, some way I decided that I wanted to take up angling. It may have been due to the fact that when we spent our summer holidays down at Paignton, my grandfather used to take both me and my cousins fishing when we were very young, probably five or six years old, I don't recall catching anything but that is the only recollection I have of fishing at a very early age.
Some of the best holidays as a child were spent up in Scotland. I think I was probably about 10 years old when we first started holidaying at a tiny little village called Corran, in fact you can't really call it a village, there are probably no more than about seven houses located in Corran. Located on the shore of Loch Hourn, Corran is one of the most beautiful places on earth, there are no big towns or main roads anywhere near Corran which is why it is such a nice place to spend a couple of weeks. If we were holidaying during the summer months we would stay in a small ramshackled caravan that was probably 40 years old. It really didn't matter that the caravan was very basic with no running water and just a portable toilet, the fact that the caravan was located in Corran made it that much more special. About 200 yards from the caravan was a small burn which is basically a small river that flowed into the loch. I would get up very early in the morning, dig some garden worms and then fish for sea trout all day. 
Although the trout weren't particularly big, typically anywhere from 8 ounces to just less than a pound, they sure were tasty, especially when smoked. The last holiday I spent in Corran was in the summer of 1984, this particular holiday was made that much more special because my two cousin's Nick and Matt also came on holiday with us. Normally we would travel up by car, however this time me and my cousins travelled to Scotland by train accompanied by our grandmother Violette, as we would affectionately call her, out of earshot:-), boy was that a long journey. We had an excellent time not only catching trout, but also lots and lots of dogfish, there were tons of them to be caught. There was a large rock that was only accessible at low tide, we would spend the whole day on the rock fishing. It was one of the best holidays I've ever had and will remain as one of my fondest memories forever.
Strangely my skinhead stage only lasted a few months, probably five months in all. Both myself and Gary were really into bands such as Madness, The Specials, Bad Manners, the Selector, basically most of the Two Tone and Ska groups that were so popular in the late 70s and early 80s. My favourite band at the time and still one of my favourites is Madness. The lead singer of madness is called Graham MacPherson, however most people know him as "Suggs". Being an impressionable young 14-year-olds, I really wanted to model myself on Suggs. So I grew my hair a little bit and got myself a flattop haircut, just like Suggs. The clothing we wore was probably a little bit more tame than when we were skinheads. Gone were the bleached cuts of jeans and in where the smart sta press trousers, or full-length jeans, flying jacket and brogues. We never went back to the very short hair and the flattop haircut stayed with us until we left school.
In 1984 I landed a summer job on "Boy Richard", a mackerel fishing boat which operated out of Paignton harbour. Although doing up to 4, five and even six two-hour trips a day was extremely tiring, it was a very rewarding and enjoyable job. I was earning a flat rate of £80 a week plus extra money which I made from selling drinks on-board, so I was probably making about £100 a week, not bad for a 15-year-old boy. Anyway, the job didn't last quite as long as I had hoped, I got the sack after mouthing off to the skipper, that is one mistake that I learned from and never did it again. I wasn't really bothered, the season was coming to an end and I had earned quite a tidy sum, more than enough to go out and buy some top of the range angling equipment. I've got very good memories of working on "Boy Richard", it's not many people who get the chance to hold a mackerel well in excess of 3lb in weight.
In 1985 I finally left Paignton Community College. Four years at one school seems so long when you are young. I had decided that I wanted to get into the fishing industry so had enrolled at Falmouth fisheries College. Falmouth is located on the south coast of Cornwall, approximately 100 miles from Brixham. It is a delightful little town about the same size as Brixham. Although it has got a fishing industry, it's nowhere near as big or as busy as Brixham. The main Falmouth College was located just off from the main Falmouth town, however the fisheries College was located at an old primary school. From what I can remember it was an old Victorian school that really hadn't been updated in a long time. I know that they no longer teach fisheries at this particular promises, I have no idea what ever came of this building or what they are using it for nowadays. The photograph above was taken on the stone pier in the centre of town and shows myself on the far right with a few of the other young lads who were attending the college at the same time as me.
Even though working on the crab fishing boat was okay and we only spent a few hours at sea every day, I really had set my heart on working on a proper trawler. In the November or December of 1985 I found myself a position on a 79 foot scallop trawler called "Onze Linquenda" (BM 202) which translates into "our house away from home". The boat was skippered by Clive Wills who was born and bred in Brixham. Funnily enough his ex-wife is now one of my carers, small world isn't it? Weather permitting we would spend a minimum of seven days at sea, sometimes more depending on the catch rate. Along with five other crew, we would do shifts of six hours on and six hours off, basically meaning that my working time would be between two o'clock in the afternoon until eight o'clock in the evening, I would then sleep from eight in the evening until two in the morning and then it would start all over again. The sleeping accommodation on the boat was fairly modest, there were six berths down below, mine was right at the back above the propeller, a made a real racket. However, after I have been working on the deck for six hours, I can probably slept through a force 12 hurricane. We would have a really big breakfast, get our own lunch which was often consists of some kind of sandwich, I remember being introduced to garlic sausage slices and mayonnaise, can't honestly say I have had it since. Then Nigel the ships mate and also the cook would do us a really big meal that we used to eat out of baking trays, why baking trays? The food doesn't stay on a plate very long if you are in a big swell where the boat is rocking from side to side. Being the youngest, I always got the job of peeling the mushrooms and potatoes. I never peel mushrooms these days, I've always wondered if that was a bit of a windup.
Being in hospital for that long means that you develop very close friendships with the people there. I was extremely friendly with a lot of the nurses but one particular nurse called Jane was my absolute favourite. The spinal unit in those days isn't like what it is today. Unfortunately bureaucracy has gone completely mad and you're not allowed to fraternise with any of the staff if you are a patient. Back in the mid-80s the staff would come in to the unit on their days off to take patients out, get takeaway meals and basically socialise. Even though you were disabled, in those days the staff made every effort to make your life as comfortable and as pleasant as possible. Boy, times have really changed.
Douglas House would often arrange trips out, and even holidays abroad. They had a customised coach equipped with a lift that enabled wheelchair users to travel in their wheelchairs. In 1988 after I had left the Cheshire home, I joined many of the residents for a short break to Paris in November, it was pretty darned cold but extremely sunny all the time, I really did enjoy that trip to France, it was the first and probably the last time I have ever been up the Eiffel Tower. The photograph to the left shows me at the age of 21 when I went on a trip with the Cheshire home to Slimbridge wildlife sanctuary. 21 years later, I now look in the mirror and ask myself "what the hell happened? you used to be quite good looking 
" Anyway, it's very sad to say that the Cheshire Home is not the place it used to be when I was there in the mid-80s, I daresay that group Capt Leonard Cheshire would probably turn in his grave if he saw what became of his idea to build homes for young disabled people.
Sadly in 2005 Gary, my dear friend of over 20 years passed away after a short illness, he was only 36 years old. Some of my fondest memories as a teenager were spent in the company of Gary. He will be missed but never forgotten.
October 2008 is a month that I would rather forget about now. After feeling rather under the weather for a few days, I was due to go out for a meal with Chrissy on the Saturday evening, as we do every other week. For the whole of that Saturday I could not quench my thirst, I just couldn't get enough to drink, in the end I had literally drunk every available bit of liquid I could find. As you do, I got on the Internet and convinced myself that I had suddenly developed diabetes. I think Chrissy arrived at about 5 PM, I'm not entirely sure because I really wasn't with it by this time. In fact, I was feeling so unwell, so incredibly ill that all I wanted to do was get to hospital, believe me I've got to be dying before I admit myself to hospital.I arrived at accident and emergency at Torbay hospital and within a couple of hours I was fighting for my life. I was transferred to the intensive care unit where I was diagnosed with a very serious infection called "sepsis". Basically, the whole of my body including all my organs were slowly shutting down. My condition at the time was so serious and my life was really hanging in the balance that the doctors were really not hopeful that I would actually surviv. Nearly all of my immediate family were asked to come and see me at the hospital, nobody ever said it but I often wonder whether it was to say their goodbyes, things were really that bad. I have several cardiac arrests throughout the week, one unfortunately happened whilst my mother was with me which must have been awful for her. She had actually been in Italy with her friend whilst all this had happened and my father had to get her back quickly because I wasn't expected to survive. I started to have problems with my breathing so the doctors performed surgery and installed a tracheotomy. This is when a small hole is made in the windpipe at the front of the neck and a pipe is attached, then a machine helps you breathe. Unfortunately I was not able to talk whilst whilst I had the tracheotomy fitted. After I gained consciousness and was aware of my surroundings, I had to mouth my words because no words came out if I'd tried to talk. Apparently I thought I had had a stroke because people were getting me to point to numbers and letters on a chart so I could make myself understood, this chart was actually developed for people who have had strokes and there was some writing on the chart mentioning this fact which is why I put two and two together and got five. 
